


Tricks of the Trade

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (about blowjobs), ASoIaF Kink Meme, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Incipient polyamory, Jon Snow knows nothing, M/M, PWP, Refrences to past relationships, Robb is a good person, Spitroasting, Theon has poor self-esteem, Theon teaches sex, Threesome - M/M/M, by example
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon has a boyfriend. He's never had a boyfriend before and isn't quite sure what to do with one. Luckily, Theon is on hand to help.</p>
<p>(Or, the one where Theon's great at sex but rubbish at relationships, Jon is pretty decent at both, and Robb's just generally great.)</p>
<p>Written for the ASOIAF kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Theon teaches Robb, or Jon, or both Robb and Jon how to suck a cock."
> 
> This is straight up porn with only minor delusions of plot. Don't look for plot. You'll find very little.

’Hey, Greyjoy.’

‘What?’

He peers over the top of his book. Jon’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, peering at him in a way that isn’t directly hostile. ‘What’s it like, being with a man?’

Theon leers at him. ‘Curious, Joanna? Wondering what it’ll be like to lose your maidenhead?’

Jon makes a _pfft_ sound with his lips. ‘Shut up, Greyjoy. I’m serious though. How’s it different from being with a woman?’

‘It’s not that different. A hole is a hole is a hole.’ He pauses, put his book down. ‘You need more lube, though, obviously.’

‘But it feels good?’ Jon presses, ‘right? Even if you’re not the one doing the…’ he makes a vague gesture to signify penetration.

‘You can say, ‘fuck’, Snow, it’s not a _bad_ word. And yeah,’ Theon says, sliding off the chair to sit across from Jon. ‘And of course it feels good. It’s _sex_. People wouldn’t do it if it hurt too much.’

Jon nods, apparently pondering the wisdom of those words. Theon sees this as a sign that his friend-cum-sort-of-adoptive-half-brotherly duties have been sufficiently fulfilled and is about to rise when Jon says, ‘How about all that other stuff though? Like, kissing and oral and stuff. How’s that different with a guy? Aside from the obvious, I mean.’ 

‘Seriously, Snow, what’s gotten into you?’ Theon frowns. ‘You’ve never asked about this before. Why not look it up, or just watch porn, or some shit like that? You got a boyfriend or something?’ Jon ducks his head, pale skin flushing cutely pink. ‘Oh my fucking god, Snow, you’ve seriously got a _boyfriend_?’ 

‘Shut _up_ , Greyjoy.’ He throws a book at the Ironborn. Theon just cackles, easily deflecting the improvised projectile. Snow practically hurls himself over the few metres separating them, pushing Theon onto his back, but Theon just keeps laughing because even if his head hit the floor a bit harder than he’d like, Jon just looks so harmless, cutely flushed, virgin-pink. 

Theon grins up at Jon, who’s pinned him to the floor with his broader bulk. He’s not nervous; Jon won’t hurt him. ‘Come on, Snow, nothing to be embarrassed about,’ he goads. ‘I’m pretty sure even your ex-girlfriend knew you were a bender, probably before you did. Besides, who can resist me?’ He cants his hips up for emphasis. 

Jon growls, low in his throat, shifting so he’s gripping Theon’s wrists. And, okay, he’s probably more wolf than pup right now, which is kind of terrifying but also kind of exciting in a way Theon’s last relationship definitely wasn’t and holy hell that is not a train of thought he’d like to follow right now. 

Jon relaxes his grip and looks away, plump lips curled in a pout. ‘It’s not you, Greyjoy,’ he says, and there’s a sort of wistfulness to his voice that Theon’s come to associate with lovestruck fools (e.g., Robb). ‘It’s just… I want it to be perfect, you know, the first time I do this with a guy.’ 

Theon could probably tear his arms free right now but he doesn’t really need to. This is Jon, honourable and chivalrous and romantic Jon, not someone he needs to be careful around. ‘Was your first time with Ygritte perfect?’ Theon asks. 

‘Well. No?’ 

‘Then don’t expect your first time with this guy to be perfect.’ Jon looks like this is the worst possible thing Theon could’ve ever said to him, so he says, ‘It doesn’t have to be, you know. Perfect. It’s fun to just figure out what people like and dislike. Experiment.’ Then Theon grins. ‘Also, it makes for absolutely wicked stories with your mates later. Did I ever tell you that story Asha told me, about the first time she pegged her boyfriend?’ 

‘I did so not need to know that about your sister.’ 

‘It’s a funny story; I’ll tell you sometime.’ 

Jon rolls over to lie next to him, too close, like an overgrown puppy with no sense of personal boundaries. He’s still pouting up a storm. 

‘Look, there’s really only one way to learn about sex,’ Theon sighs, ‘and that’s by actually having sex. Even just oral, or rubbing each other off, or whatever. Everyone’s different.’ 

Jon’s quietly contemplative for a while. ‘Would you— I mean, is it okay if I— we, uh, practise? Only if you’re okay with it! I don’t want to force you or anything— _mm_!’ 

Jon’s lips are exactly as sweet as they look. Theon kisses him, lightly at first, gradually deepening and it turns out Robb’s half-brother isn’t nearly as bad at kissing as his outward innocence might insinuate. He responds easily enough to Theon’s ministrations, makes cute little half-choked moans when Theon licks and teases his lips with the edges of his teeth, careens his head up for more when Theon pulls away. 

‘How’s your first kiss with a boy feel, Joanna?’ Theon rolls over to straddle Jon’s hips, bony hands on broad pectorals. 

‘It’s not my _first_ —‘ Jon begins to say, but instead just squeaks when Theon teases a nipple through that sinfully tight shirt of his. ‘And— and it’s good. It’s really good.’ 

‘ _I’m_ really good,’ Theon agrees, picking at the hem of Jon’s shirt. ‘And as much as I like this, I really do think it needs to go.’ It kinda gives him a rush of power, to see Jon hurriedly discard the shirt and look up at him, all big eyes and bigger lips and mussed curls. Theon kisses his jaw, his neck, grinning into the crook between neck and clavicle. Jon shudders, insisting hard-on pressing through their jeans into the cleft of Theon’s buttocks. 

‘Don’t tease,’ Jon groans, which Theon takes to mean quite the opposite, working his way down Jon’s torso, fingers and mouth alternating between Jon’s nipples, Theon’s hands mapping the rippled topography of Jon’s washboard abs and damn if that doesn’t feel great, feeling the barely restrained power shuddering beneath his fingertips with every careful caress. Jon’s annoying in that charming little-brother kind of way he has, but even Theon has to admit Jon Snow is probably one of the hottest guys Theon knows of. 

Theon slides further down Jon’s body, thumbing open the button on Jon’s jeans, teasing open the fly on Jon’s jeans, pulling them down by the belt loops just far enough to get access to Jon’s muscled thighs and painfully obvious arousal. He traces lazy circles on the insides of Jon’s thighs, sinking down to kneel between Jon’s legs — legs which the young man spreads with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever. He nips lightly at the thin skin on the inside of Jon’s thighs, sucking and kissing at the mark, feeling the thrum of an artery beneath his lips. Jon moans, louder now, like he doesn’t care who can hear them. 

‘Pay attention, Jon Snow,’ Theon says, hot breath ghosting over Jon’s clothed erection. ‘Your real lesson starts now.’ 

Theon kind of wishes he’d had the foresight to turn his phone on to record this, because Jon’s dick is truly impressive. Perfectly proportionate, reddish head leaking and eager. Jon’s moans when Theon laps at the head are no less impressive, but they all pale in comparison to the loud, keening noise Jon makes when Theon manages to deep throat him in one smooth movement. 

‘ _Gods,_ Theon,’ Jon says, and that’s about the last coherent thing the other man says. Theon’s lips are pressed to the flat of Jon’s pubis, tip of his cock nudging the back of Theon’s throat, and Theon rocks his head slightly, humming deep within his throat. It’s a treat, hearing Jon loose control like this. 

Theon slowly pulls back, letting Jon’s cock slip slowly out of his mouth until the head is resting on Theon’s bottom lip. He teases with just the tip of his tongue, angling his own head to get all of the glistening cock-head slicked up with spittle. Then he licks further down along the shaft, down towards the base, stopping only occasionally to suck or kiss. ‘Lesson number one,’ Theon narrates between teases, ‘is to always leave him wanting. Draw it out.’ There’s a myriad of other things he can think about doing, but he’s not sure Jon’s ready for anything more advanced. The inclusion of teeth, for example, or temperatures or even just angles, would have to wait for another time— assuming there’d be another time, which he shouldn’t do, because Jon has a boyfriend, so Theon should probably be lining up the shovel talk more than planning the rest of Jon’s cocksucking curriculum. 

Theon licks his way back up to the head of Jon’s dick, glancing up at Jon through his lashes. The other man is quite a sight, practically glowing pink with a full-body blush, mouth half open like he’s forgotten how to close it. ‘The most important thing to remember, though,’ Theon says, planting kisses atop the leaking head, ‘is to know when to tease and when to indulge.’ He swallows Jon down again, moving his head like Jon’s mouth-fucking him even though Jon hasn’t tried to force his movements even once, for which Theon is glad. 

It takes one, maybe two more minutes before Jon is moaning, flat of his hands slapping against the floor like he doesn’t know what to do with them. ‘I’m— I’m gonna—‘ he warns, tapering off into a long moan, keening— 

and Theon is pulling his head back as to not choke, Jon’s cum hot and thick and coating the inside of his mouth. He pulls off completely, looking at Jon’s wasted form on the floor, cock limp and leaking. Theon leans down to lap at the oversensitive organ, cum and saliva making his tongue slick, enjoying Jon’s full-body shudder. ‘Gods, Theon,’ Jon mutters again, and Theon’s pretty proud to note it’s gone hoarse. _Jon is loud in bed,_ Theon files away for future reference (/blackmail). 

‘Yeah,’ Theon agrees, finally taking his mouth off of Jon’s cock and leaning up to kiss him on his other head. ‘I’m pretty good. But these are just the basics though.’ He grins and he knows he’s got the remains of Jon’s cum on his tongue, which makes it even better when Jon leans over to kiss him on the lips again, tasting himself in Theon’s mouth. 

‘Mhm. There’s more to this?’ 

‘Snow, there is so much more to oral than blow jobs,’ Theon says. He picks himself off the floor. ‘This is like, Oral Sex 101. You are nowhere near ready for intermediate lessons yet. Come back another time you wanna learn how to please a man.’ 

‘Wait, what?’ Jon sits up. ‘That’s it?’ Theon picks his book up and nestles back into the armchair he’d been occupying earlier, tucking his feet up under him. ‘What about— what about everything else?’ 

Theon drops his gaze, lets _Statistical Mechanics_ obscure his face as he waves Jon dismissively off. ‘You’ll figure something out. Watch a porno or something.’ Some things were better left to boyfriends. Not kind-of friends with personality issues beyond the dreams of analysts. 

Jon stomps off in a huff and when he’s too far gone for Theon to hear his footsteps anymore, all that’s left of him is the taste on Theon’s tongue. 


	2. Chapter 2

Robb is standing outside his door, a six-pack of beer and a pizza in hand.

‘Why didn’t you bring vodka?’ Theon asks, stepping aside to let him in.

‘Because it tastes like old ass?’ Robb hazards. ‘Besides, beer and pizza is a thing. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.’

That’s true enough, but Theon is Ironborn and has been raised to know that a real man would never stoop to even smell anything that’s less than 40%. Still, Robb has decent taste in beer, not that Theon will ever admit it, and knows all the best pizza places, which Theon will admit, so he lets it go with only the bare minimum of grumbling.

They’re halfway through a Die Hard movie (he’s frankly lost count of which one; one of the shittier sequels), with Theon’s legs in Robb’s lap when Robb turn to look at him. ‘So,’ Robb says.

‘So?’

‘You’ve been with a lot of guys before, right, Theon?’

‘You callin’ me a slag?’

‘What? No, Theon, of course not.’ Robb looks genuinely contrite, like he’s worried he’s hurt Theon’s feelings or something. Idiot. ‘I just meant, you know, generally speaking. You know your way around a dick, right?’

That’s a fair assessment. ‘And an arse,’ Theon feels the need to add. ‘I also know my way around arses.’

Robb blinks. ‘Right. But you’ve been with a lot of different guys before?’

‘Fewer than you seem to think, Stark, but yes. What of it?’ He feels like kicking Robb for this line of inquiry, so he does just that. Just a little.

Robb catches the offending foot and tickles the sole of it until Theon pulls his foot back. ‘Nothing, really. I’m just wondering, you know, how it is.’

‘If you’re so damn curious, why don’t you just try it with a guy? Pick up some random dude in a bar and go to town on him.’

Robb wrinkles his nose. ‘That’s kind of— not my kind of thing, Theon. Besides, sex is so… intimate. I wouldn’t want my first time with a guy to just be some stranger.’

Theon snorts. Intimate, right. ‘It’s sex,’ he says, ‘it’s only skin deep.’ He pauses. ‘Well, it goes deeper than skin, sure, but not in the way you’re probably talking about.’ He leers just for good measure, pulling his feet out of tickling range. 

‘Man, I wish I had your attitude towards these kinds of things,’ Robb sighs. ‘You’re always so confident when it comes to sex. I feel like a virgin every time I’m with a new person.’

‘Technically, if he fucks you up the ass, he’ll actually be taking your virginity. Unless you’ve been fucked before, that is.’ He intensifies his leering at Robb a bit more, watching the flush creep up his neck.

‘Not what I meant, Theon.’ Theon knows that, and he also knows Robb’s wrong. There’s nothing enviable about Theon, not compared to Robb-rich-as-all-fuck-and-built-like-a-brick-shithouse-Stark. (Really, where were these insecurities coming from? Also, why were they talking about feelings? He’s gay, not Sansa.)

Theon sighs and hooks one leg over the back of the sofa. ‘Look, c’mere.’

‘What?’

‘Practise on me.’ He tosses his head in what he thinks is an unconcerned, almost disdainful manner, but from Robb’s frown he guesses it hasn’t worked. ‘You don’t wanna pick up some random dude for sex, fine. I’m not a random dude and we’ve already established that I’m a bit of a slag—‘

‘You’re not,’ Robb interjects.

‘—and besides, we’re mates so it’s not like it’s awkward or anything. Virgin fumbles stopped being charming when you were sixteen, Robb. Get with it.’

Robb looks torn, like he’s not sure what to do or where to look. His eyes drift from the sharp jut of Theon’s collarbones to the smooth expanse of his stomach, up to his lips. ‘I don’t know…’

Theon rolls his eyes. ‘Stop being such a pussy and just fucking kiss me, Stark.’

Robb leans over, bracing himself with his arms on either side of Theon’s face. ‘I— are you sure you’re okay with this? You’re not— I’m not forcing myself on you, am I? You want this? Even—‘ _Even after Ramsay_ , he means, which is probably the most boner-killing thing he could’ve said, the tit.

‘Robb, my legs are spread and I am telling you to have your way with me. I’m pretty sure this counts as an invitation in most cultures. I swear, Robb, if you don’t kiss me now, I will eat all your pizza and not pay for my half of it.’

Robb is a better kisser than Jon, or at least, kisses very differently from Jon. Jon’s eagerness was sweet; Robb is more forceful, more clearly in control, but no less responsive to Theon’s little nibbles. Theon finds he can pretty much control Robb’s kisses by making small, encouraging noises. It’s a power trip and a half and he finds he quite likes it.

They break apart and at this distance, Theon can count the freckles dotting the bridge of Robb’s nose. ‘Was that alright?’ Robb asks, voice gone quiet and rumbling, like far-off thunder. Theon kisses him again, fingers tangling in those ginger curls, Robb’s hand on his waist, almost tender.

‘It’s alright,’ Theon breathes, and isn’t that the lie of the century. ‘Not great,’ he grins. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll help you with that.’ Robb grins into their next kiss, thumbing the waistband of Theon’s jeans.

‘These need to go.’

‘Yeah,’ Theon agrees, ‘but you need to take them off.’

Robb obliges, pulling his trousers and his underwear down at once, broad hands, large hands, ghosting along the sides of Theon’s thighs, following the smooth curve of his legs until the jeans and boxers are lying abandoned on the floor, Theon’s legs hooked around Robb’s waist, a perfect fit.

They kiss again, more desperate this time, Robb’s hands back on Theon’s waist, Theon's at Robb’s shirt until he eventually breaks the kiss and throws it across the room. Robb kisses Theon’s lips, his jaw, the elegant line of his throat, and Theon doesn’t quite keen, but he certainly makes his pleasure known when Robb goes lower, between his legs.

‘What’s got you so eager to do it with a guy?’ Theon pants, splayed out against the sofa.

Robb’s grin is equal parts goofy, equal parts guilty. ‘Boyfriend,’ he says. ‘Sort of. We’re kinda dating, so I should figure this whole gay sex out before it goes any further.’

‘Oh,’ Theon says. Probably Jon, he figures, considering how similar their stories are; it'd be one hell of a coincidence if it weren't. It should probably disturb him more, the thought of two half-brothers together, but he's pretty sure his own family is far more fucked-up than gay incest. Actually, Theon's pretty sure his family history contains at least one instance of gay incest. ’Hey, let’s switch places. I wanna show you something.’

‘What?’ But Theon’s already moving, detangling long limbs from around Robb, sinking off the sofa and to the floor, shoving Robb into a sitting position. ‘Theon, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Theon grins, and if it’s a little too fixed, Robb doesn’t say. ‘I’ve just got something I want to show you. You’ll like it, I promise.’ He fumbles Robb’s trousers open and pulls his jeans down between his knees. Robb’s already completely hard, which is a compliment of sorts, Theon supposes, leaking pre-cum against the soft material of his pants.

He grinds the heel of his palm against the bulge with just enough force to be intense but not painful, before tugging the waistband of Robb’s underwear down to join his jeans. He licks a stripe up the side of the shaft, lips over his teeth, the tip of the head breaching the tight circle of Theon’s mouth. Robb’s not nearly as vocal as Jon was, but he hums in appreciation when Theon begins to suck.

There’s one thing Theon’s always enjoyed having done to him and he thinks Robb will probably appreciate it too, so Theon loosens his mouth a little and slips two fingers in alongside Robb’s dick, trying to get them properly slicked up. He pulls his mouth off completely to readjust their positions slightly — Robb, the darling, goes along with just about everything Theon does right now without asking why — before leaning in again to lap at the head like a lolly. The tip of his index finger circles around Robb’s asshole, predatory, like a shark scenting blood, and he penetrates Robb at the same moment Theon takes him down fully into his mouth again.

The startled groan this elicits makes Theon smile around Robb’s dick, the second spit-slick finger worming its way in alongside the first. Robb grabs Theon’s jaw just as Theon begins to work his head back and forth, going quicker, spreading and curling his fingers inside Robb until he locates the prostate gland. Robb moans then, long and loud, but even longer and even louder when Theon rubs the gland through the perineum while massaging it with the other two fingers.

Theon fingers Robb open, slow and gentle because spit isn’t the greatest lube in the world, rubbing the prostate with three fingers, blowing Robb — and, seven hells, the noises Robb’s making are probably the hottest he’s ever heard — when he feels Robb’s grip tighten. ‘I’m gonna cum,’ Robb grits out, and if he can still speak in complete sentences, that’s tantamount to failure in Theon’s books. So he redoubles his efforts, drawing Robb deep into his throat, fingers working vigorously—

—and then Robb comes, one great spurt followed by another. Theon draws back and closes his eyes, letting it hit his face, fingers still hard at work deep in Robb, drawing moans and whimpers and mewls as the oversensitive gland is continuously stimulated. There’s a dull thud as Robb’s body slumps back, boneless, and Theon can’t help but smirk and lick his lips.

Robb’s cum is wet and heavy on his face when he stands up and leans over to kiss Robb’s chin, and it doesn’t take a genius to realise that Robb’s pretty well satisfied, pupils blown wide under half-lidded eyes. ‘I’m gonna go clean up,’ Theon murmurs, straightening up. It feels like some of it has hit his shirt. ‘You know the way out, right?’

Robb straightens up. ‘What? Theon, what’s wrong?’

But Theon’s already in the bathroom, door shut and locked. ‘Nothing, I just got a test tomorrow, that’s all,’ he calls. But that’s a lie.

It’s one thing to have no-strings-attached sex with your best friend. It’s another thing entirely to have no-strings-attached sex with your best friend when he already has a boyfriend (whom you know, and who doesn’t like you). One’s acceptable, the other is too low even for Theon.

He’s not worth Robb.


	3. Chapter 3

When he comes back out of the bathroom half an hour later, Robb’s still there.

Correction: Robb’s still there, and somehow he’s managed to smuggle Jon in there as well, not that Theon’s been paying much attention. Theon’s naked from the waist down still, because of course he forgot to pick his jeans up from the floor, but from Jon’s ducked gaze, he assumes it makes the other man more uncomfortable than it does Theon.

Well. Good, he thinks vindictively.

‘Look, Theon, we need to talk,’ Robb says. He’s at least pulled his boxers and jeans up, but his shirt is nowhere to be seen.

‘No, we don’t,’ Theon says. ‘There’s nothing to say. I’m not trying to break up your relationship — yes, I figured that out, you’re not subtle and I’m not half as dumb as you seem to think I am.’

‘We don’t—‘

‘Anyway,’ Theon cuts Robb off, ‘I get it. You're happy. I'm not gonna break up your happy home.’

‘No, you really don’t,’ Jon says. He’s frowning, pretty mouth all twisted like he’s tasting something sour, arms crossed in that petulant manner Theon remembers from childhood. He thinks: Jon’s lips, sullen and sticky-sweet, sunshine-yellow on a hot summer’s day by the pool the summer he turned fifteen.

It’s sick. He’s known them both since they were kids. 

‘We don’t think of you as a home-wrecker,’ Jon is saying, but they should. It’s a testament to Jon’s innocence, or naïveté, that he doesn’t realise Theon’s bad news for them both. For all three of them. The fact of the matter is that they’re his best friends, possibly only friends, and they’re happy together, and he has no right to infringe on Jon and Robb’s happiness. They have built a tentative little heaven between them and Theon has no place there, cannot knock down their walls and slot himself between them, emotional baggage and all.

 ‘Just go,’ Theon says. ‘Please.’ He doesn’t know if his voice is meant to sound that broken. (It’s his heart that’s broken.)

 

* * *

 

It’s half-past two at night and Theon is freezing. November had brought with it howling gales of wintry winds, crisp and dry; at these temperatures, it’s almost too cold for snow. He shivers, peering down the streets for the familiar headlamps of Robb’s BMW. 

‘About time,’ Theon grumbles when Robb pulls up, slotting himself into the front seat, next to Robb. 

‘How’d it go?’ Robb asks, thumbing the steering wheel. ‘Have fun at the company party?’ 

Theon groans. ‘Don’t ask.’

‘That bad?’ Jon pipes up from the backseat. Theon wants to bitch Robb for bringing his boyfriend, but frankly, he’s just a bit too tired for that. And possibly also mildly traumatised, which isn’t too unlikely, given that he’s spent the last, what, five and a half hours in the company of Euron and all his employees — repressed middle-managers and accountants and engineers and dockhands and whatever, all of whom should never be allowed to touch alcohol, in Theon’s opinion. 

‘Euron made a speech at the start of the evening. He had a vision of creating the most efficient and dynamic shipyard in Westeros with the help of creative and motivated employees.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad,’ Robb says.

‘At two o’clock, he made another speech. This time he had a vision of getting as many female employees as possible into his jacuzzi back home.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Isn’t he engaged?’ Jon asks.

‘Depends on your definition of engaged.’ He's rather certain his uncle's definition makes exceptions for nineteen-year-old secretaries with family issues.

‘Loose, then?’ Robb says.

‘Must run in the family,’ Jon snipes, ducking out of punching range.

Theon huffs but doesn’t really have anything to say to that.  

Robb pulls up outside an apartment block that is far too upmarket for Theon. ‘Uh, Robb?’ he says. ‘You do realise I don’t live here?’ 

‘I know,’ Robb says, ‘but we do.’

There’s a trap here, somewhere, only Theon can’t see it. ‘We want you to stay the night,’ Jon says. ‘It’s late and you live on the other side of the city. Just sleep here tonight.’

Theon makes a face. ‘Uh, thanks guys, but I can just take a cab from here. I’m not too keen on sleeping wall-to-wall with you guys. No offence, but I’d rather not hear you two going at it.’

Jon’s smirk is a sliver of white in the dull light of the street lamps. He leans in between the front seats, lips on Theon’s ear, and whispers, ‘You’d not just _hear_ it.’ And it’s stupid and clumsy and so obviously not something Jon would have ever said to anyone, so uncharacteristic, but somehow it still makes Theon shudder in his seat. Robb’s hand rubs circles on his thigh, still so warm and strong.  

‘What we’re trying to say,’ Robb murmurs, ‘is that we want you, Theon, if you’ll have us.’

‘We want to make it up to you,’ Jon says. ‘I’m pretty sure I still owe you a blowjob, at least.’

‘We took advantage of you.’ Robb’s voice is soft and calm next to him, like he’s soothing a child or a spooked animal, but all the while there is something thick and ugly trying to claw its way out of Theon’s throat. No, he says, wants to say; no, you didn’t take advantage of me, because I wanted to do it, it was my choice to blow you and finger you and try to love you. I am more than the sum of my scars. 

‘Let’s make it up to you,’ Robb whispers, Robb implores, mouth and tongue.

It’s a pity fuck, Theon thinks. A pity fuck from his two best friends. He should have more self-respect than to accept.

He doesn’t.

* * *

Jon’s mouth is hot and wet against his, and though Jon’s shorter than Theon, he’s still got Theon pressed up against the bedroom wall, hands on Theon’s hips, fingers in the waistband of Theon’s suit trousers, stiff cock against Theon’s own. Theon runs his hands over Jon’s torso, stripping layers from him until he’s left only in his skin, warm and smooth against Theon, heavy and insistent. 

‘Oh, wow,’ Robb says. ‘You two look so hot together.’ There’s a sound like a zipper being undone, trousers falling to the floor, and Robb is slotting himself in behind Jon, fully nude, pulling Theon closer to them by the hips. Someone moans.

‘I wanna blow you,’ Jon mutters against the curve of Theon’s neck. ‘I really, really wanna blow you.’

Who is Theon to argue with that sentiment?

Somehow, they manage to migrate to the bed, where Jon wastes no time tugging Theon’s trousers down over his slender hips, his own shirt somehow lost in the fray. ‘If you ruin my clothes, you’ll have to replace them,’ Theon murmurs, prying Jon’s hands off the collar of his shirt only for Robb’s hands to take their place, gently unbuttoning where Jon’s had been practically tearing. (It’s quite endearing, that eagerness.)

And, well, fuck him but those two are gorgeous, Theon can’t help but think. Robb’s the bigger of the two, broad and muscular and has arms to kill for, but Jon’s slender, toned physique is a completely different kind of hot. Theon squirms against the pillows, too horny to be self-conscious about his own body.

‘How… how are we gonna do this?’ Robb asks, one hand on Theon’s knee and the other on the gentle slope of Jon’s arse. ‘You wanted to blow Theon right?’ Robb sounds like he doesn’t mind that idea nearly as much as most other men would. 

‘Well, yeah, if that’s fine with you two. I mean, I don’t want to upset—’ Frankly at this point Theon stops listening, because the hesitance is not doing them any favours. Cute, but useless, and were he a crueller person, he might make some comment about that description fitting Jon pretty well. As it is, he files that away as a possible insult for later.

‘Fuck me, if you two are gonna discuss this to death, we’ll never get any fucking done,’ he tells them. He yanks Robb’s bedside drawer open and throws the lube at him — yes, Theon knows where all his friends keep their lube; he’s that kind of person. ‘He has two holes. There’s nothin’ to discuss.’

Jon swallows him down like a starving man at a feast, more slobbery eagerness than technique, but that’s endearing in itself. It’s hot and clumsy and wet, but the rough of Jon’s tongue feels so good on Theon’s dick that he can’t bring himself to really care, not when Jon looks so good, plump lips stretched wide, eyes a flash of blue beneath thick, dark lashes. Jon moans around Theon’s cock as Robb works a finger into Jon’s arse, slow and meticulous and steady, one, two; fingers pumping in and out in a steady rhythm. Theon’s pretty sure it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, or it was before Robb thrusts into Jon and Jon _keens_.

Robb buries himself in Jon’s arse in a few quick strokes and Jon pulls his mouth from Theon’s cock to groan, deep and guttural like it’s the best feeling in the world. Jon angles his hips up, legs shaking and face buried in the angle where Theon’s thigh meets groin. ‘Ngh, Robb, please,’ Jon whines, whole body quaking, rutting back like a bitch in heat like he can’t get enough; arse up, torso down, hands fisting the sheets and ‘Gods, harder, Robb, faster, come _on_.’ Theon kisses the breathless moans from Jon’s mouth, both hands angling his jaw up, not even missing the heat of Jon’s mouth on his dick because somehow this is hotter, better, watching the two most beautiful men he knows lose themselves in each other.

Robb’s the quieter of the two but he shudders once and groans long and loud when he comes, hips stilling against Jon’s. Jon keeps rutting, back and forth, seeking friction of any kind but Robb pulls out with a wet sound, slumping bonelessly next to Theon.

‘That was so hot,’ Theon tells them both. He’s still hard and so’s Jon. Robb’s hands ghost down his sides, settling on the curve of his arse.

‘Can I do you for round two?’ Jon asks. Theon can’t think of any words that express how on board he is with that plan, so he flips over on his hands and knees. Robb laughs next to him and angles his face for a kiss.

Jon’s fingers are quick to prepare him, maybe a bit too fast and long-nailed, but there’s something strangely sexy about the rushed, clumsy pace of it all, like Jon just can’t help himself. Theon pushes back on those fingers, relishing in the slight burn of it. Jon fumbles a bit — ‘Curve ‘em a bit, c’mon, Jon,’ Theon pants — but pulls out after a while, when he feels Theon’s stretched enough.

‘Can I— I wanna see your face,’ Theon says while Jon’s busy lubing himself up. He looks up.

‘Of course you can,’ Jon says, like it’s no big deal. He kisses Theon when Theon’s rolled over on his back again, softly and sweetly — and isn’t that just Jon in a nutshell? Jon lines up with Theon’s entrance while Robb kisses Theon’s cheek, lips, nose, torso, everywhere, and—

—and Jon’s pushing in, slowly at first, then faster until Theon’s making small little noises like mewls, it hurts so _good_ , the slow burn, the stretch of it, until Jon’s buried to the hilt and Theon’s dick is dribbling pre-cum against his stomach. ‘So good,’ Jon mutters. ‘So _tight_ , Theon, _gods_.’

He begins to thrust, still so gentle and careful, making Theon rock back against him, wanting, _needing_ more. ‘Don’t— ngh, don’t be such a bloody tease,’ Theon growls.

‘Payback,’ Jon pants, snapping his hips forward, much harder than before, hitting Theon’s prostate full-on. Theon keens. ‘You teased me before.’

While that may be perfectly true, teasing is not currently conducive to Theon’s continued mental wellbeing. Part of him really just wants Jon, or Robb, or both, to pin him down and fuck him raw.

Jon’s not the type to do that, not during their first — only? — time, so Theon growls and pushes himself up, pulling himself off Jon’s dick just long enough to get Jon down into a seated position and himself into Jon’s lap. Robb’s hands are behind him, lining Jon’s cock up with Theon’s arse again until he’s pushing in, Robb at Theon’s back, a completely different angle and Robb’s lips at his throat and Theon feels so, so full.

‘Gods, Theon, so damn… so damn _tight_ , so good…’ Theon moans, his body hums with tension, coiled stiff, grinding down into Jon’s lap, Robb’s chest like a wall at his back. He spreads himself further, head angled back, Robb’s hands on the sharp jut of his hips, setting the pace, controlling how fast Theon can fuck Robb’s boyfriend. He can feel Jon trembling beneath him but Theon feels like he’s about to fall apart himself; Jon thrusts hard, deep, Theon swears he can see stars when he closes his eyes and it’s _so good_. Jon goes so hard, so deep, like waves against a ship’s side during the storm but Robb’s the steady deck at his back.

Robb bites his neck and pinches a nipple while Jon groans wetly in his ear and Theon can’t help himself. ‘Jon, Robb, please, more, I— ugh, I can’t— so much— _I love you two so much_.’ 

Jon’s hips stutters to a stop deep inside him and there’s a splash of wetness as Jon comes with a long drawn out moan, and something — Jon’s noises or Robb’s hands or the cum deep inside him pushes Theon over the edge too, spurting against both their stomachs. ‘So good,’ he says, and, ‘I love you,’ and, ‘I really, really love you.’

* * *

They fall apart on the bed a tangle of hot and wet bodies, sweat-slick and smelling of sex. Theon feels boneless and fucked-out, safe between Robb and Jon, even as they join their hands over Theon’s hip. Jon’s eyes are blown wide and while he can’t be arsed turning around to look at Robb, he imagines Robb must be pretty satisfied as well. 

‘Next time, I want you to do me,’ Jon declares.

‘Demanding little queen, isn’t he?’ Theon remarks.

Robb chuckles. ’You have no idea.’

‘I am _not_. Shut up.’ Jon hits Theon, but lightly, practically just poking him in the stomach like a furtive child. Theon laughs and kisses his cheek.

‘Still, I can’t say I blame him. Sometimes it’s nice to be flipped arse over head and hammered like a bent nail.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Aww, he’s blushing. How cute.’

‘I’m not cute.’

‘Oh, but you are though,’ Theon says. 

‘Can we gag you next time? You know, so you’re less annoying?’

‘Next time?’

‘Yeah, next time.’

‘We want you, Theon,’ Robb says, detangling his hand from Jon’s and adding Theon’s to the mix. Three hands. ‘Not just sexually. We really do love you.’ It’s Theon’s turn to blush. Maybe he babbles too much during sex.

‘Sort of, anyway,’ Jon mutters. ‘Gods, how do you manage to be this slutty and this insecure at the same time?’

‘I’m good at sex. Not so much at the whole relationship thing.’

Robb chuckles. ‘You did alright by us,’ he says, and kisses Theon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's my first kink meme prompt filled. I was going to give this a sad, unrequited love sort of ending, but then I decided against it; it's porn, after all. That, and I've been backseat driving my roommate's DA:I playthrough and frankly, after the Sera/Dorian/Iron Bull banter I couldn't write something sad if I tried.


End file.
